The Story of Massington
by outside the crayon box
Summary: The story of Massington, as they travel through the path of life, from little kids to all grown up. / For the beautiful Ana. Happy birthday!


**Prompts: airport security, knotted braids, dark chocolate almond cherry clusters**

**For you, Ana, my soul sister and the best friend anyone could ever ask for. **

**You're hilarious, witty, kind, funny, caring, beautiful, and entirely special. ILYSM. I would ship you a container of donuts if I could.**

**But since the only thing I can do is write a fic, that's what I did.**

**Happy birthday, girl. You deserve one. :D**

* * *

Massie Block has always been a "little show-off." So, when she marches into Mrs. Brenden's morning kindergarten classroom, her gorgeous chestnut locks pulled up behind her ear in a small bun, nobody pays any attention at all to Ahnna Pincher, whose boring dishwater-colored tresses are simply brushed out pin-straight. Massie's hair is beautiful and thick. When down, it cascades past her shoulders in a wavy waterfall. When up, it accentuates her glittering amber eyes.

Even from a young age, Massie Elisabeth Block is a lioness: proud, in charge, and a total knockout.

So of course she catches the eye of the most beautiful boy in her class.

Even from a young age, Derrick James Harrington is a pervert with a knack for fart jokes and pranks.

They balance each other out perfectly.

The Block family's annual Christmas party blows even Merri-Lee Marvil's New Year's Yves out of the water.

The sun is setting outside the modern floor-to-ceiling windows that line the ballroom. The sky glows aqua, shot through with vivid oranges and pinks and lime greens. The sun, a blazing ball of fire, dips down below the horizon and disappears. Just as it does, the first guests arrive. Westchester's elite were clearly into fur (and not faux, either) over the past year because capes, handbags, and more are scattered in closets and on stands as Inez and her crew hurry to clear the items away

Derrick and Massie share an understanding look before diving into the closet where all the furry-ness is being held. They thrash around in the softness, scrounging up spare change and lipsticks. When someone found loot, the other would immediately discover something better. The constant need to outdo each other leads them back out to the party, where they duck under feet and scurry through legs, racing for the table where Kendra keeps her stocking stuffers.

Of course they have to stop and rifle through any unattended purses. It seems to Massie that the wealthier one is, the less craps they give about their stuff. Pocketbooks, hobo sacks, and tote bags dangle off backs of chairs and lie abandoned on the floor, halfway hidden under the lacy red tablecloth.

Avoiding the guests' annoyed gazes, Massie scooches under the table, coming up with even more makeup, along with some $50 bills and even a diamond crystal. She holds her findings up.

"I win."

Derrick grins devilishly. "I don't think so, Block. Come here." He leads her into the hallway bathroom and uncups his hands. Dozens of **dark chocolate almond cherry clusters** spill out onto the marble tiles.

"Yummy!" Massie shrieks in her little-girl soprano.

"So do I win?" Derrick asks with a smirk.

"No way! I have all this!" Massie triumphantly pulls out a wad of cash. "Plus, look at this ring."

Derrick snatches at the little jewel, which is set in an intricately designed circle of 18-karat gold. "Gimme."

"No!" Massie grabs at the piece of jewelry.

She's too late. The ring is dropped into Derrick's vest, in the pocket where a watch would normally go, and he distracts Massie by offering her a chocolate.

"Fine." She unwraps the gleaming golden foil from the sweet and pops it into her mouth, savoring the taste of the delicious cream inside. "They're good, Derrick. You try one."

He does.

They're on their twelfth each, becoming more and more addicted as the minutes pass, when the door of the restroom is flung open.

"Massie Elisabeth Block, is this where you've been the entire time?"

Massie looks up into the face of a beyond angry Kendra Block. "Not the entire time, Mommy." She uses her sweetest voice as she stands up. The world spins, and Massie falls forward, grabbing the folds of her mother's dark green and black mink gown.

Kendra scowls, noticing for the first time the candies on the floor. "Those were going into the refreshment bags. How dare you!"

Tears begin to drip from Massie's eyes, teetering on her long dark lashes before sliding down her cheeks and dropping to the floor. "I'm really sorry, Mommy."

"Those had liquor in them, Massie."

At that moment, Massie falls to her hands and knees, her head dropping. Her breath quickens as she dry-heaves.

"Fuck, Massie. Comment pourriez-vous faire quelque chose comme ça? Vous êtes la fille la plus irrespectueux que j'ai jamais rencontré! Vous êtes à un événement officiel que nous organisons et tout ce que vous faites est de s'enivrer sur le chocolat!" Kendra snaps, before clapping a hand over her mouth and turning left and right to see whether anyone heard her French rant. "Massie, darling, get Inez to take care of you. I need to talk to the Harringtons. They deserve to know that you two can't handle maturity."

Derrick is experiencing the same feeling of nausea. "Urgh..." he groans, panting. His head pounds.

As Kendra turns out her heel and leaves, Massie graps Kendra by the strap on her white stilettos. The brunette is laughing uncontrollably. "I-is th-this what dru-dru-drunkyness feels like, Mommy?"

Kendra extracts herself from her daughter's grip with a bitter laugh. "Just wait until you grow up."

* * *

As teens, Massie and Derrick are naive as they come. Not that they show it. But Massie, with her supreme Alpha-ness and superior attitude about everything, boys included, has never so much as had a boyfriend before. And Derrick, for all the naked-butt-wiggling and the flirting with everyone he passes, has never actually kissed a girl.

Derrick loves Massie. Massie loves Derrick. Too bad they both have a matching streak of stubborness that just won't let them have a real relationship, the definition of skinny love.

"Block, wanna go to the park with me?"

Eight words (gramatically, it should have been nine) that screw her for life.

She panics all day. And all night. And all of the next day. And when an hour before the actual date rolls around, her hair is a mess, her face hasn't even been washed, she hasn't showered, and she still doesn't have an outfit. The minutes tick down as she gets ready, leaving her with four minutes to find something to wear.

The doorbell rings.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

Getting Derrick to shut up and stop ringing the bell would mean meeting him in her pajamas. That couldn't happen. But-

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

"Shut the fuck up!" She sprints downstairs and pulls open the front door. "What the hell is so-"

She chokes at the sight of her driver, carrying nine bags of groceries. "Here, let me help, Isaac." Her face burning, she dumps three cartons of eggs in the pantry before running back upstairs to find clothes.

Eventually, she tosses on a pink pleated chiffon skirt and tucks in a white tank top, then winds a thick brown belt around her waist. White ballet flats and pink earring studs, along with her favorite Chanel glasses, finish off the outfit.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

She races downstairs and tries to smile shyly. "Hi, Derrick."

"Hey, Block." And he takes her arm and leads her to the local carnival. "You wanna go on the roller coaster?"

"Ugh, no way." She shivers.

"Merry-go round?"

"Sure."

They share a horse, a proud mare with her head held high, and slowly, they turn to kiss.

And they slip and fall, crashing to the ground.

"Derrick! You pushed me! You tric-"

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

And, of course, Massie Block always gets the last word.

* * *

"We're going to Paris, we're going to Paris!" Kristen and Claire dance around Massie in an ecstatic frenzy, grinning from ear to ear. "We're going to Paris, we're going to Paris!"

"Shut up!" Massie finally screams. "Stawp embarassing me."

Immediately, they drop their hands guiltily and followed Massie through **airport security**. Alicia and Dylan meet them on the other side.

"Are they finally under control?" Alicia wants to know as she tightens the straps on her gold gladiator sandals.

"Nawt even close," Massie replies as they present their tickets and head onto the plane.

* * *

The day she comes back, Massie Block is 21, and Derrick is waiting for her with a handful of chocolates. "Remember these, Block?"

"Of course I do." With a smile, she unwraps the foil and pops one into her mouth. "Delicious."

"Aren't I?"

"Not you, dumbass." But she kisses him anyway.

"Block, will you marry me?" And he kneels in front of her and pulls out the ring.

The ring that they'd stolen so many years ago.

* * *

Their wedding is bliss.

Derrick is adorned in a cerulean-colored suit with a gray shirt and no tie. He'd refused.

Flowers are scattered throughout the outdoor pavilion: roses and lilies, their bright colors popping against the sea of neutral fashions.

Massie wears a crystal-white gown with a tight, silver-beaded bodice and a full tulle skirt. Her bridesmaids wear pale blue A-line dresses with their hair in **knotted braids**.

When they kiss, when their lips meet at the end of the ceremony, the audience gasps because they're perfect together. They make each other whole.

Kristen and Josh both read a tribute.

Massie and Derrick laugh, remembering the times they'd stay up until the crack of dawn watching TV shows on mute, listening to Demons by Imagine Dragons (it's both of their favorite song), the times they just sat and talked, and mostly, that time they were both **falling off merry go-rounds**.

They kiss again.

* * *

Later that night, they're alone for the first time in weeks.

"You're an angel, Massie, you know that?"

She smiles softly. "No, Derrick, not an angel. But you could be."

"How?"

"If I died, would you go to Hell and rescue me?"

"No way. You want to know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you won't need rescuing if you're in Heaven."

"Oh, Derrick, I'm not an angel."

He thinks of all the things she's done for him, the way she's kept him sane, more than that, kept him alive. And he whispers, "Not all angels have wings."

* * *

**So, what do you think? R&R!**

**Heart ya,  
****Joy**

**P.S. If you hate it, it's 40% my fault, 35% Della's, 20% Lily's, and 5% Kimmie's. **

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANA!**


End file.
